Maybe I'm Just Going In Circles

So, I’m two months into this retirement thing and wondering why I didn’t do this sooner. This is particularly true, given the sorry state of affairs at the former gig. 

Kinda like...

Look, I won’t bore everyone with another in-depth analysis of all the things that were wrong there — we’ve all had shitty jobs before, so I’ll just say that dump was one of the worst professional experiences I’ve ever had in my 40+ years of “profession-ing.”  

That agency was a dumpster fire, doused in gasoline, and dropped into a volcano. I haven’t missed it, or them, one bit. Please note: It’s highly unusual for me to burn my professional bridges. I’m still on good terms with most of my formers, but that particular place can go fuck itself into oblivion. 

Let’s never speak of it again. 

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I’m supposed to be writing a book, lulz. Today I’m going with my (ex…? my former…?) my (still, sorta?) “life partner” to Lake Worth Beach to check on the condo he’s renting out. He’s renting it furnished, so he has some small tables and wall art he picked up at thrift stores that he wants to offload. It’s easier with two people, and it’s a beautiful day. I’ll probably get a free lunch out of it somewhere.

It’s strange to remember that I had a history with Lake Worth, long before they renamed it "Lake Worth Beach," long before I'd even moved here twelve years ago.  

I had actually lived here briefly in the summer of 1980, when I fled Michigan (the first time) right after graduating from high school. I knew at that point that I wasn’t ready for college, and also that I wasn’t going to be able to live at home anymore. That summer was my first aborted attempt to flee a situation at home that had become intolerable to everyone. The job I’d gotten didn’t pan out though, and by the end of that summer I was back in Michigan, and back in my parents house. None of us were thrilled with the arrangement, but it would be another full year before I would move to DC, find work, and escape for good.

Lake Worth

It was my intent to never see my family again. I was, happily, wrong about that. I couldn’t have known then that some 40 years later I would be in Florida again, and that this time they would all eventually follow me here. Mom and dad moved here at my urging in 2017; my nephew Zach followed a few years later, after a messy divorce from his first wife. We were a family again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours, and we were patching things up from the past, we were figuring out how to do this “family” thing better. 

And then Covid happened, and my parents died and I went into rehab, and my 35 year relationship crumbled, and the fucking relentless job nightmare spiraled out of control and, and, and. I’m not overstating it when I say the last three years have been a fucking nightmare. 

Now, two months into retirement, I’m sitting on the smoldering heap of what was my former life and trying to make sense of it all. And I'm back in Lake Worth. Maybe I'm just going in circles.   

But here’s the thing: I’m ready for whatever comes next. I’m ready if

nothing comes next. If I never accomplish another thing in this life, if this is as good as it gets? Okay then. I’ll take it. I’ll finish by quietly stringing beads and writing a shitty blog no one reads. It’s enough to just be left alone for awhile. Like, for the next 30 years.

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I'm never gonna finish stringing up all this Roman glass. It's pretty, but my god what was I thinking!? I must have 30 pounds of it sitting on my workbench. I'm reopening the Etsy shop this week, may need to start with a blowout sale. 

Roman glass with Baltic amber
prayer beads

But I'm happy with how they're coming out. I wore one yesterday, a "product field test" to make sure it's balanced, comfortable to wear, that it looks right. 

I'm ready for a break from the Roman glass, though. I have several hanks of raw and cut gemstones that also need to move, so I'll probably be stringing beads until my fingers bleed.